Renewal
by Em Mindelan
Summary: Sequel to "Catharsis" and "Evolution" - S/V Romance and Angst - Now with more SpyMommy and SpyDaddy - NOW COMPLETE
1. Reflections

**RENEWAL**  
  
SETTING - AU, start of S2, during "Trust Me", although there are some key differences, particularly in the dialogue of Syd's conversation with Irina [and I know Irina seems evil in this story, but that's necessary for the purposes of this fic - I don't actually think she's evil, so please don't hold this against me...]  
RATING - PG-13 to be on the safe side  
SUMMARY - "Vaughn, you cry quietly in anguish, what are we to do about our eyes? They betray us." Sydney and Vaughn, and a heck of a lot of angst.  
DISCLAIMER - I don't own the characters or the show...Bad Robot Productions, ABC Television and JJ Abrams do.   
   
  
**Renewal**  
_Reflection_  
  
"Someday," you whisper to him, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat strong and steady. You could set your watch to his heart, you think.  
  
Someday you'll be free. Free to have a normal life with him, free to love him without worrying about surveillance teams, free to introduce him to your friends. Free to do whatever you want, free, in all senses of the word.   
  
But not today.  
  
* * *  
  
One week ago, your mother shot you in the shoulder.  
  
Almost twenty five years ago, she faked her own death and abandoned [_abandonedbetrayedleftusaloneleftmealonerippedoutourheartsleftusfordead_] your father and you.  
  
She sits now in front of you, watching you curiously.  
  
Vaughn stands behind you, hovering protectively.  
  
She speaks finally.  
  
"You look like him, Mr. Vaughn."  
  
He knows who he looks like.  
  
[_Mymotherkilledyourfatherkilledyourfatherkilledyourfather_]  
  
You speak slowly, a little shaken by her words, but trying not to show it.  
  
[_Let's get something clear. You are not my mother. My mother was Laura Bristow. Laura Bristow died in a car accident twenty-one years ago. You are a traitor and a prisoner of the __United States__ government._]  
  
"Is that what you believe? Tell me, Sydney, do you remember the cookie recipe that we used to make choc-chip cookies [_myfather'sfavourites_] for Daddy on Valentine's Day? Do you remember our trip to Disneyland? Do you remember the Spinning Teacups? …._do you remember, __Sydney_?"  
  
Yes, you remember.   
  
Yes, you remember your mother making heart-shaped chocolate chip cookies for your father on Valentine's Day. You remember measuring the flour and the chocolate, stealing a few bits of chocolate while you thought Mommy wasn't watching. [_Sydney__, I'm sure that there was more chocolate in this bowl!_]  
  
Yes, you remember the trip to Disneyland with your Daddy and Mommy. [_guess__ what, sweetheart? We're going to __Disneyland__ tomorrow!_] You remember the Spinning Teacups. [_you__ giggled and squealed so much, and he grinned at you and lifted you up on his shoulders and you felt like the queen of the entire place_] You remember that you and your Mommy had your photo taken with Mickey Mouse. [_Say cheese, Sydney!_]  
  
You remember the little brown-haired girl who was abandoned by her mother, only to have her father taken away from her as well a few days later.   
  
You remember the little girl in frilly dresses crying at the sight of her father [_strongtallinvincibleDaddy_] in tears. [_Sydney__, he said, sitting you on his knee, there's been an accident. Sydney, he said, a tear on his cheek, your Mommy's gone to heaven._]  
  
You remember wanting your Mommy back so badly. You remember praying [_God, I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll give my dolls away, I'll never be naughty again, just please give me back my Mommy…she must be lonely in heaven without daddy and me…I want my Mommy back, I want my Mommy back…please?_]  
  
You remember screaming for hours on end, until you couldn't scream anymore, because nothing was right anymore.  
  
Yes, you remember.  
  
You remember _everything_.  
  
"I remember my mother. I remember a good woman, who loved her husband and daughter. I remember that _you are not my mother_."  
  
"If that's what you really believe, then what are you doing here, Sydney?"  
  
You're here because they ordered you to be here. You're here because this woman has haunted you [_he looks in your eyes and sees her face/he looks at you and sees his father's killer_], fascinated you [_she looks so much like the woman in the journal/she's never seen the beauty of the sky behind Mt. Sebacio/the woman depicted will render unto the greatest power the utmost desolation_], betrayed you [_I was not that agent, Sydney. Your mother was_] all these years, and for once, you'd like to try and understand the woman [_witch**mother**spylover**killer**__]. For once, you're in control. Or so you thought.__  
  
[[i]Look at me! We will interact only when necessary. You will address me as "Agent Bristow" and answer only the questions I ask. There will be no personal anecdotes, no comments about my job performance, no condolences or congratulations. Do you understand me?_]  
  
[_Do you understand?_]  
  
[_Yes…Agent Bristow._]  
  
Her eyes glint as you leave with Vaughn.  
  
Once you're outside the glass cage, you lean against the wall and breathe again.  
  
You don't know if you can cope with this.  
  
[_Of course you can cope with this.]__  
  
You live, and you lie, and you breathe._  
  
It's become quite a good motto. And it's a motto that you live by when you're not in his arms. Because when you're in his arms, breathing is easy, and lies aren't needed.   
  
Vaughn's watching you, reluctant to speak and disrupt your chain of thought.  
  
Finally you begin.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to be in there for that, Vaughn."  
  
[_sorrysosorrynomanshouldhavetocomefacetofacewithisfather'skiller_]  
  
He just sighs and shakes his head a little.   
  
"It's all right, Syd. I knew what I was getting myself into when I went in there. Anyway, I couldn't very well have asked you to go in there if I wasn't going to do the same thing, could I?"  
  
This brings a small smile to your face. This man loves you enough to face Irina Devreko [_loves you enough to face the woman who took his father away from him_].   
  
"Are _you_ all right though? I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, seeing her again after all these years…I mean, the woman shot you!"  
  
"Vaughn, I can say that she's not my mother all I want…but she looks like my mother, and she sounds like my mother, and she has all the memories of my mother…and she knows that."   
  
You're almost in tears by now, and he comes over and hugs you. [_the first time he touched you, you were in tears because of your father/the first time he hugged you, it was because of your mother/the first time you made love, it was because you wanted him and you needed him and you couldn't fight it anymore/no matter the reason, he's always there for you, you know_]   
  
In his arms, you're invincible, and untouchable, and free, and safe, and loved, and nothing matters.  
  
And once again you're wishing desperately for the day that you can do this in public, where you don't have to lie to anyone about your job, your life, your family, your lover, because he makes you feel so free, and it's just a snippet of what you can have, you know.  
  
You're wishing for the day you can be free with him, the day where you'll be free to live like you are in his arms forever.  
  
"Thankyou," you whisper to him, your head on his shoulder, your lips next to his ear, and you wish that you weren't in the middle of CIA headquarters [_screw protocol_], because his proximity [_histouchhisfeelhishandsonyou_] is intoxicating.   
  
* * *  
You're back in the glass cage a few days later, sitting calmly, emotions firmly in check. [_you will not let her see that her presence affects you, you will not show her that you can see your mother in her, you will not show her that you feel like the little girl she abandoned all those years ago_]  
  
"Agent Vaughn decided not to accompany you this time, Agent Bristow?" She turns the titles into a dripping badge of derision.  
  
"Agent Vaughn has other duties."   
  
"He's your handler, is he not?"  
  
"That would be correct, yes."  
  
"There are rules, protocol, governing the relationship between an agent and handler." It's a statement, not a question.  
  
"Yes." Your clipped tones say everything. [_yes__, there f****** well are rules, and they're about a hundred miles behind us right now/protocol be screwed_]  
  
"So, Agent Bristow, where do you and Agent Vaughn stand in relationship to these rules?"  
  
"Clearly, if we had broken any of these rules, he would no longer be my assigned handler."  
  
[_He's only your handler still because you convinced your father that there was no one else you would work with…your father sees the glances we give each other when we think no one else's looking…they're dangerous looks, full of everything that we cannot say, and everything that we should say, and everything worth saying...oh, yes, they're dangerous looks._]  
  
"Clearly."  
  
She knows. She saw the body language, the way your body stiffened when she told him he looked like his father [_she saw the way you imagined killing her for gashing open his old wounds_]…she saw the way he stood behind you [_my guardian angel always_]…but most of all, she saw into your eyes. Our eyes betray everything [_windows on the soul_]. _Vaughn_, you cry quietly in anguish, what are we to do about our eyes? They betray us.   
  
They betray our love. They betray our care [_he told you that you always had his number_] and our want [_he kissed you and pushed you up against a chain-link fence and it was hard and fast and unforgiving but you wanted it so much_] and our need [_to be in his arms forever…to lie there forever where nothing else matters_] and above all, they betray the fact that he is your salvation, and you are his [_You saved my life/he wouldn't let you kill yourself/he is your rock, the centre of your world/no lies between you/he is given completion through you, and you are completed by him_].  
  
They betray the fact that you love him more than life itself, because he lets you breathe [_in his arms, breathing is easy, and lies aren't necessary_] They betray the fact that he loves you more than he loves his own life [_I don't care that you think that you'll kill me, because I'd rather be dead than without you._]  
  
Your eyes [_velvet brown like chocolate, he told you once_] and his [_liquid green and deep enough to swim in_] betray everything, oh yes.  
  
"Is there anything you'd like to add to these transcripts, Ms. Derevko?" [_maybe if you don't call her your mother, then she won't be your mother/maybe it will be easier to bear looking at her/maybe you won't see the little girl she abandoned all those years ago_]  
  
"No, Agent Bristow, I believe that will be all."  
  
You turn and leave, trying not to show her that you've allowed her to get to you again and failing miserably. [_You never were able to lie to your mother, were you? She always knew when you had stolen chocolate while you were cooking, no matter how much you denied it_]  
  
Vaughn waits outside for you. You couldn't make him go in there with you again, no matter how much you would have liked the comfort of him at your side. He tries to deny it, but you can see how much it kills him to see her sitting there, safe, comfortable [_alive_] when she killed his father, left him for dead. [_tortured__ him/left him to die alone/screaming to the end for his wife and his son_] Yes, you think, he dies a little bit each time he sees her.  
  
He can see you're mentally drained from the ordeal, and just wordlessly takes you into his arms, embracing you, keeping you warm [_keeping you safe_]. You sigh, and say, "You could see I needed that, couldn't you?"  
  
"You're like this every time you come out of there, Syd! You say that she kills me a little bit whenever I see her, but what about you?"  
  
"I'll be all right, Vaughn. The information we're getting from her is more important than any hurt feelings I might suffer."  
  
"Not to me, it's not," he growls protectively. "This is killing you."  
  
"I'll be all right, Vaughn." [_so__ please drop the subject_]  
  
He kisses your hair, ignoring the fact that you're in the middle of a far too public place to be displaying this much affection. He can see that you needed to be looked after [_cared for_], needed to be held, and so he did what had to be done. _Screw protocol_.  
  
You look into his eyes, and you see what they see, and you wonder where on earth your life got this screwed up, because what you see in his eyes delights you and terrifies you. You see love, and you see protection, and care, and need, and want, and desire, and you see promises for the future. You see a love so deep that it scares you, because no one has ever felt that much for you. You see a love so deep it comforts you, because you know you'll never again wonder if anyone would care if you pulled the trigger of a gun held to your head.   
  
And you wonder how on earth your life is so screwed up that the one thing in your life that feels right, feels real, feels true is the one thing that's denied to you.  
  
* * *  
  
You're back at the warehouse later that night.  
  
It's become a ritual for you, even if he's not here.  
  
He's not here yet tonight, but he will be soon.   
  
This place, this dingy warehouse in one of the worst parts of LA, is more like your home than anywhere else, you reflect almost bitterly. Home for you now is a place with no lies, somewhere to feel safe and secure and unwatched. Home is now becoming a place where he is.   
  
There is nowhere that you feel closer to him than here. Your memories of him [_you look really pretty/the first time you were together, up against that fence/watching him watch you get dressed/him holding you in his arms_] are strongest here. When you thought he was…dead…you came here and just sat, and wept, and cried, and then you went home and put a gun to your head.   
  
Right here, right now, you feel alive like you do nowhere else.   
  
This place started out as a place of work, somewhere where you came to receive your assignments, or somewhere just to meet and discuss your job. It quickly became someplace more. You made love with him for the first time here, out of desperation and need and want. You let him hold you here, kiss better the scars that criss-cross your body, let him wipe away the blood on your hands here. It was here that you finally admitted to yourself that you loved him. It is here that you feel that something in your life is real, something is true, something is free of lies.  
  
This, right here… what we do, this is real. The rest of your life, by comparison, is just a series of stabs in the dark, inaccurate and clumsy and weak and wrong and false and full of lies, a weak reflection of the real thing.  
  
**What we do here, this is real. ****  
**  
This love, this life, this freedom from lies, this man, this promise of a future that I see in his eyes, this hope for better times to come, this faith in him and in his love…**this is real.**


	2. Thirty Years

**Renewal**  
_Thirty Years_

Your Daddy loves you, or did at one point in his life, before your mother ripped out his heart and left him to bleed and die. [_he lifted you up on his shoulders, and you felt like the queen of the world_/_saved you when you needed saving/held your hands in his, told you that your mother was dead_] 

She was a black widow spider, devouring those who loved her [_like mother like daughter?_]...

She killed your Daddy. [_Daddy, daddy, what's wrong? Why are you crying?_]

Your Daddy was a good man, a faithful and loving father, a patriot. [_he lived his life by these words - Love. Duty. Honour_]

The man he was died the day that they told him that his wife was a Russian spy [_did she ever love him? Did she ever love **you**?_]

The man who has lived inside the shell that your mother created is a killer, a ruthless man. A spy, a double agent. [_You knew that they were going to kill Danny! You knew, and you did nothing!_] He kills men and he feels nothing.

For this alone, you think, you could hate your mother.

But for what she did to the man who has rapidly become the reason you get up in the mornings [_"taking down SD-6 is the only reason Sydney gets up in the mornings... Or did you think it was those meetings she has with you?" your father told him once. If only he knew.], _the man who gives you hope that someday you will be free [_to be with him, to live a normal life_], you want to kill her. [_what sort of daughter sees her mother and wants her dead?_]

Irina Devreko while playing the part of Laura Bristow [_the pretty, educated literature professor, the wife of a charming husband with a beautiful daughter_] killed twelve men [_twelve stars on a marble wall_]. "The Man" was responsible for the deaths of countless others.

Your mother has had three lives.

**[Irina Derevko.]**

........_one day, some men came to my school, gave us a test, then told me that I could serve my country, serve the Party in the KGB. They flattered me. The best a poor farm girl like me could hope for was a job as a menial secretary, serving some petty politician_..._if I was lucky. Most of us ended up as factory workers_...

You wonder idly if she liked school, if she remembers anyone she knew there, if she had any friends. You remember your excitement at your first day of school, the way your classroom looked, the way you adored your kindergarten teacher...you remember your first best friend, a blonde haired girl called Abby...you remember the way your mother looked at you on your first day of school, and you wonder if she was relieved to see you off to school so she would have more time to fulfil her mission.

...._so, I left my family [my mother cried at my departure] and I went to the KGB academy. I did well, and a few years later, my superiors told me that I was to receive my first field assignment shortly. I was so excited to be doing something to serve my country..._

You remember your own excitement at receiving your first field assignment, the pride you felt at serving your country. You felt like you could have fought a thousand men and won. You thought you were serving your country, just as she did. 

_....they told me that I was to pose as a young literature student from Wisconsin, a pretty young thing away from home for the first time. My name was Laura Young, and I was studying to become a teacher. I wondered what possible use a literature student could be to the KGB. It was then that they told me my mission. I was to meet a man, Jack Bristow, one of the CIA's brightest rising stars_. _And I was to make him love me, make him believe that I loved him in return....and then I was to steal his secrets. I was to use any means necessary to force him into forming an emotional attachment with me..._

Were you part of these means? Was her pregnancy, her daughter merely a means to an end, a way of tying your father closer to her, trapping him closer in her web? [_web of lies spun by a black widow_ _spider, deceitful until the end_]

_...and I succeeded. I never failed. Not even when every inch of me screamed that it was wrong to sell my soul like this. I was always a model KGB agent, dutiful and respectful to my superiors, polite to my teachers...all the while planning to be free of them eventually_._ You never suspect the one right under your nose, do you? I smiled charmingly while planning to put a knife in their backs. _

_[Why, Ms. Derevko?]_

_I didn't like the person they'd made me._

_[Would you care to elaborate?]_

_Not particularly._

And that's where that section of the interrogations finished, and where they started analysing the person of Laura Bristow.

She was always a model wife. She always played her part well....

**[Laura Bristow.]**

_At the mention of her name, your mother became warmer, and lost her Russian accent. Her words became those of an American housewife. She **was** the quintessential American housewife._

Yes, she always played her part well.

_Laura Bristow [she took her husband's name, according to tradition_] _was a happy woman - happier than Irina had ever been. She had had enough food all her life, and parents that loved her, but most importantly she had had choices in life - choices as to what she would do in her life - she was free like Irina never had been._

_I rather enjoyed being Laura. Laura had never been taught forty seven different ways to kill a man while leaving his face unobscured...never been told as a child that she must say goodbye to a mother who loved her dearly..._

_Laura was happy, carefree. Laura wasn't a killer. _

_My happiest memories come from my time as her. My husband was a good man, and slowly I began to feel myself loving him as well. He was kind, and caring, and utterly enchanted by me, it was clear to see. He was a good husband, and treated me well, unlike any Russian man had ever done. He had respect for me. My daughter was.....my daughter was at first a tactic suggested to me by my superiors, concerned that I hadn't tied my husband down enough. They eventually persuaded me to have a child. _

Your shoulders tense as you reach this part of the tape of her interrogation. So, you think bitterly. You were the result of the orders of some paranoid KGB handler. There's still a part of you that wants to know more. [_did she ever love me?_]So you watch on. [_you've always been a sucker for pain, haven't you?_]

[_did she ever love the daughter she was ordered to have? did she grow to love me like she says she did my father?_]

_...My daughter. Sydney. When I gave birth to Sydney, when I saw her eyes watching mine as I fed her for the first time, I began to wonder if I could stay as Laura forever. Because I didn't want to go back, didn't want to leave my family. That's what Laura had that I was denied. Family. People that loved her._

_Yes, I loved my daughter. After Laura died, I would sit for hours, wondering what she was doing, if she was happy or if she was sad, if she was cold or lonely, if she was wondering where her Mommy had gone...yes, I loved my daughter. _

Her voice grows softer at this point, and your shoulders sag. She says that she loved you. But she's lied to you so often, and about so much...it's hard to take her word for very much. Not when she's committed so many sins and hurt so many people.

_I loved both of them very much. _

_[Why, then, Ms. Derevko, did you leave them? You could have turned yourself in.]_

This is the question you want answered more than anything in the world. [_Yes, Mommy, why did you leave us? If you loved us, why did you go? Why did you abandon your little girl?_]

_Because the KGB left a teddy bear in her bed one night with a letter attached telling me that if I didn't abandon the operation, the next present my daughter would receive would be a knife in her chest as she slept. They saw the emotional attachment I was forming with my child and my husband, and worried about me doing exactly what you proposed. So they gave me some added incentive for doing what I was instructed to do._

You don't know what to think at this point, to be happy [_relievedreassuredloved_] because your mother didn't leave you as a child because she didn't love you, because she did, and she left to protect you, or to be angry at yourself for feeling any sort of compassion for the woman who put Vaughn through so much [_You look like him, you know_], for the woman who put your father through so much [_I made him believe that I loved him, and I knew he loved me_], for the woman who left a little girl alone in the world and with a father who turned to alcohol [_he drunk so much in those first few years..._] to drown his pain at his betrayal [_ripped his heart out, left him to die_] and his hurt [_he mourned his dead wife while he hated her_] and his guilt [_he fell in love with the enemy, and she killed twelve men with information she stole from him_] in those first few years, leaving his daughter alone in her room, crying at how alone she felt, and praying for her life back.

[_She loves you, yes, but she's caused you and those you love so much pain._]

The interrogation continues. Laura is abandoned for awhile, and we move onto your mother's life as an international criminal mastermind.

**[The Man.]**

_...when I was extracted from my mission, when Laura died, I was taken back to Russia and put through months of debriefing....they questioned me for hours, about my husband, my daughter, the emotional attachment I was forming with them, the information I had discovered, any possible weak links in the CIA, anyone possibly open for recruitment...the questions were endless, and the sessions long. But I played my part well, as always. I've often thought that a more peaceful and certainly more lucrative profession would have been acting. I slipped back into Irina, all the while missing Laura, mourning the loss of her optimism and innocence. I was every inch the obedient KGB agent. They believed it when I told them that I was relieved to be away from the capitalist scum and back among the Party, doing my duty to the People. I lied to them about everything, and they believed my every word, or so I thought._

_After a few months in confinement, I began to worry that they had received information contradicting some of my statements. And so they had. _

_They sent me to Kashmir, to a KGB prison and torture facility._

Here she points to a scar on her wrist, and you wince, knowing how she received that sort of scar. You have a similar one on your own wrist.

_They put me in water, and ran an electric current through it. This is where I pulled at the restraints so hard that I made myself bleed. They tortured me for what seemed like years. They tortured me until I lost track of days, until my life was separated into the time when I was being tortured, and the time that they would leave me on the floor of my cell._

_I never broke. _

_Eventually they began to believe that maybe I was telling the truth, and they released me and sent me back to Russia. That was where I escaped using my contacts in the intelligence world and began working for a international crime syndicate known as the Group_, _doing arms sales, intelligence gathering and the like to pay my way in life, to give me enough money that one day I would destroy the people who turned me into a killer, the people who forced me away from the only people I can ever remember loving - the only family I can ever remember having._

_And I did. I killed every one of the KGB agents who recruited me, trained me, were my superiors...I took especial pleasure in the death of the man who left the teddy bear in Sydney's bed. No one threatens my family._

You thought your father was ruthless. This woman is on a completely different level. You don't know if you've ever seen someone so ruthless and yet so...in a strange way, protective.

_Eventually I became the head of the Group. I became the Man. I was utterly immoral in this role. My teachers would have been proud, I think. _

_But the power and resources I had as the Man allowed me to protect Jack and Sydney better. And that was the only thing that mattered. They may not have seen what I did for them, and I may not have been able to be there when they needed me most, but I was there in one way or another._

_I just wanted to protect my family. So I did._

[_Ms. Derevko, you killed countless numbers of people through your actions as the Man. Would you have us believe you did this out of some misplaced sense of family responsibility?_] 

You are watching in some mixture of awe and shock and almost love as well as amazement by now, almost shaking at the thought of it all. It's almost too much to bear. But you can't bring yourself to turn off the screen...you're drawn to her face on the screen.

She becomes angry at this question, or as angry as you've ever seen her.

_I will not sit here and listen to you question my love for my husband and daughter!_

_I did what I had to do to protect them, and that's all that matters to me._

You're in tears now, transfixed between wanting to hate her and wanting to love her. She did all of this, killed so many, hurt so many people, committed so many sins, for you and your father.

[_Ms. Derevko, what did you believe that this "protection" of your family would result in?_]

_I hoped that one day I would be able to see them again, talk to them again...and that maybe they wouldn't hate me for the things that I've done._

You're crying now, as she bares her soul, the layers and masks and lies gone, and it's just the woman who desperately wants the two people who she loves most in the world not to hate her. It's not Irina [_girl?/killer?_], and it's not Laura [_mother?/betrayer?_], and it's not the Man [_protector?/criminal?_], but some crazy fusion of them all, the mother and the girl and the protector....and she's crying now, as she finally reveals it all. 

_She just doesn't want you to hate her._

In the end, it's as simple and as complicated as all that.

* * *

Vaughn sees you as you leave the viewing room, sees your tears.

"Syd, I told you that you shouldn't have watched those!"

He can be just a little bit overprotective sometimes. You appreciate the thought, but some things have to be done regardless of the pain.

"We're going to see her."

He blanches a little bit at this [_he dies a little inside every time he sees her_] but nods and doesn't push the subject.

You walk down into her glass cage, and she's there doing her meditation, her face once more a mask.

She sees the tears on your face, and you walk over to her. Vaughn hovers in the background, unsure of what's really going on.

You hug your mother for the first time since you were six years old, and her hugs feel the same as ever, and at that moment you're a daughter in her mother's arms, the little girl and her Mommy, and the daughter reunited with the mother who left her so many years ago, and you whisper to her "I don't hate you."

She's crying now, and so are you, because you can finally see all of your mother's pain and guilt and torment and responsibility and love and fear and protectiveness, and you know that your mother loves you, and you love her, despite the pain that she has caused you and all those around you.

Eventually you step away from one another, and she asks, tears streaming down her face,

"Would you like to know how your father died, Mr. Vaughn?"

[_the families are never told how their loved ones died, only that they were killed serving their country_]

Vaughn just gives a terse nod, the emotions [_angerconfusionhateworryneedregretwantconfusion_] playing across his face.

"I met your father once before he died, at a CIA family barbecue. Jack had worked with William for a number of years, and so he made certain to introduce us. You were there as well, Sydney, and so were you, Michael. Sydney would have been, oh, a year old, you about seven.

Almost a year later, my handler informed me that I had another assignment. These assignments were generally assassinations or intelligence gathering operations in the Los Angeles area. 

When he handed me the file, I knew I couldn't, or didn't want to go through with the mission.

William Vaughn was a good man, a man I knew, a man with a family he loved very much. This much I gathered from one meeting with him, and nothing I had heard of him since indicated otherwise. He was a man I knew, with a family, a son just a bit older than my daughter, a loving wife...I couldn't kill him.

So I made plans to sabotage the assignment somehow, to make my handler believe that Vaughn had been tipped off by someone, and had changed his plans accordingly, or to make him believe that it had just been a unlucky set of coincidences that had resulted in me being unable to complete the mission.

Everything was going according to plan, until I reached the location where I was to kill him. I told him to leave immediately, that he was in severe danger. I was wearing a balaclava, but he recognised my voice.

He stepped towards me, and then asked, 'Laura? Is that you?'

Then the gun went off.

My handler had followed me to the location, and had heard him ask who I was. Then he shot him once.

He told me to finish the job, and he watched as I put two shots into your father's torso. I had been left with no choice but to complete the job....I could obey his orders, and fire two shots that would not necessarily be fatal, or have him kill me and your father.

Then he left.

I held your father's head, and I let him see my face. 

'Laura,' he said. 'I don't know what you're doing here, but....tell them I love them. Promise me.'

I promised him I would, and then I called an ambulance before leaving the scene."

She swallowed. 

"I have never felt so wrong or so guilty in my life as I did when Jack came home and told me that William had been killed. I cried for days when no one was watching...I had hoped that the shots hadn't killed him, but they did..." Her voice trailed off at this, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It's been over 25 years since your father died, Agent Vaughn, but I always keep my word. Mr Vaughn, your father loved you very much, and he died thinking of you and your mother."

Vaughn's in tears as well, but he blinks back his tears long enough to choke out the words, "Thankyou...thankyou for finally telling me how he died."

"I'm sorry." The words are so fickle, and will never be able to bring him back, and yet they're everything that he needed to hear.

"I know." It's not forgiveness, and it may never be, but it's a start.

You're still in tears, crying for both of them - for the mother who has killed dozens, done unspeakable things, committed grievous sins to protect you and your father in the hope that maybe they wouldn't hate her, and for the man who loves you enough to face his father's killer, and who has just finally heard his father's last words. You cry for the little girl whose mother had to leave her to save her, and for the little boy who lost his father, and for the woman your mother always wanted to be...

And you cry because you finally know the truth. Your mother loves you, and she loves your father, and that's really all that matters in the world to you at that moment besides the fact that the man [_guardian angel_] loves you more than life itself, as you love him [_he's your promise of freedom, of better things to come._]

_Truth takes time._

_Thirty years is long enough._


	3. Strength

**Renewal**

_Strength_

Your mother says she loves you, says she committed her sins to protect you, says she killed Vaughn's father because her superiors gave her no choice.

In the heat of the moment, it was easy to believe. [_I just hoped...that maybe they wouldn't hate me_/_I loved my husband and daughter!_]

But now you begin to doubt, and even worse, you begin to understand what it means that she has done all these things in the name of protecting you and your father.

She's killed men. She's sold her soul, and her body, and sacrificed any sense of morality she once had.

_In your name._

_More blood on your hands._

In one respect, you feel pity for your mother, for the young girl the KGB took from her family and trained to be a killer [_one day some men came to my school and gave us a test...they told me that I could serve my country_], for the woman who was happiest when living someone else's life [_my happiest memories come from being Laura/I began to wonder if I could be Laura forever...I didn't want to be Irina again. I didn't want to be a killer_], for the woman, who separated from her husband and daughter, dead in their eyes, spent her life trying to protect them, desperately hoping that they wouldn't hate her for the things she did, for the pain she caused them through her betrayal [_I just wanted to protect my family...I did what I had to do_]...yes, you think, you pity her. 

But you cannot forget her sins. You can't _forgive_ her sins. You can't forget the people she killed [_she is responsible for the death of twelve CIA agents...I killed many as "The Man"...I was ruthless. A killer. I destroyed those who made me a killer...everyone who trained me, my superiors, the men who recruited me_], the crimes she's committed [_assassination....drug smuggling...arms sales...intelligence gathering...I was the head of an international crime syndicate_], or the way she destroyed your father and your perfect world when she left you so many years ago.

You can't forget, and you can't forgive her. 

You loved her, worshipped her almost, for so many years....she was the perfect mother in your mind's eye.

Then you discovered the truth about her, the truth about how she had married your father to steal information for the KGB, and then you hated her, hated her for the things she did to the men you love [_the man your Daddy was died when she left....and the estranged father that you've barely known was born/I was eight when my father became one of those stars...William Vaughn was one of the agents your mother killed_], hated her for leaving you [_did she like leaving me? did she like being free of me?_], hated her for ruining your perfect view of her, hated her for spoiling the one part of your life you always thought was perfect...the one part of your life that was always free of lies. You hated her because she made you wonder if your very existence was part of a lie. 

Now you pity her, and you find that you cannot hate her. You can try to, want to...but you can't. Because she says she loves you, and there's part of you that loves her back. The little girl who prayed desperately for her mother back never really died. Now that girl has what she prayed for all those years ago, and she still loves her Mommy, despite the lies, despite her Mommy leaving her to grow up cared for by strangers. The little girl has what she prayed for........and she still loves her mother. 

The little girl you were [_the little girl you tried to shove to the darkest corner of your heart_] the little girl who remembers her mother so dearly, who worshipped her mother [_you were going to be a literature professor, follow your mother's footsteps...and so you did. Just it wasn't the literature professor part of your mother that you emulated._]....that little girl never died, no matter how hard you tried to kill her.

Yes, part of you loves your mother. 

* * *

You go to see your father.

He's in a viewing room, the same one that you viewed the tapes of her interrogation in yesterday.

He's nearly finished watching the tapes...he's reached the point where you finally lost all control of your emotions...when you finally stopped trying to fight the little girl you were.

[_Ms. Derevko, you killed countless numbers of people through your actions as the Man. Would you have us believe you did this out of some misplaced sense of family responsibility?_] 

_I will not sit here and listen to you question my love for my husband and daughter!_

_I did what I had to do to protect them, and that's all that matters to me._

He watches this over and over again, transfixed by her words...eventually repeating her words along with her image on the screen.

He doesn't see or hear you enter.

Your mother affects him like this, you know. Under normal circumstances, Jack Bristow [_killerfatherspydoubleagent...the product of his wife's betrayal_] would never let _anyone_ enter a room without his knowledge.

"She doesn't want us to hate her," you say softly.

He spins around quickly, turning off the screen [_covering our tracks, are we?_] as he stands up to face you.

"Sydney! I didn't hear you come in."

"She doesn't want us to hate her, Daddy...she says she loves us." Your words are not those of the strong, confident CIA agent you've become, the woman who is a proficient killer, liar and thief, but instead those of the little girl you were. The little girl who you can no longer fight.

"I know. I've watched the tapes." His words are soft, but there is steel beneath the gentle exterior.

"I...saw the tape of your conversation with her yesterday, with Agent Vaughn," he adds.

"I can't hate her. Part of me wants to...part of me will never forgive her...but part of me wants to love her."

"She was happy, Sydney. She says she was her happiest while she was Laura...she says she loved us."

"I know, Dad."

"I never stopped loving her, you know. Not even while I hated her." He shakes his head. "I loved her a little bit too much, I think."

"How is that possible?"

You can't imagine loving someone too much....cannot even begin to comprehend it. You love Vaughn so much that it hurts, and even then you don't know if it's enough, because your love for him, and his love for you is everything in the world to you. It's the centre of gravity that keeps you steady, the force that keeps you held down to the earth, because otherwise you would be flying out of control, lost without him, lost without the rock he provides for you to build your life upon. He's the eye of the storm, the one place that is calm and quiet and peaceful and free of the lies you are surrounded by in your life...he's the only place in the world where you are free of the lies that _are _your life.

He's the centre of your world, your everything. 

"I don't know....I can't think straight with her around me. She's always had that effect on me. The first time I met her...I fell in love with her. I loved her more than you can ever possibly realize, Sydney."

"I doubt it." Your words are harsh, clipped.

This raises his head, makes him really look at you for the first time since you entered the room.

"You love him, don't you." It's a statement, not a question, and a challenge at the same time.

"Yes."

It's not much to reply with, you know, but it says everything that needs to be said, says all that your father needs to know.

You've had conversations with your father about the nature of your relationship with Vaughn before.

You had one after your mother entered custody, after he found you lying in Vaughn's arms in the warehouse after your first meeting with your mother....

_You were both dressed and prepared to leave, but you found you couldn't force yourself away from his arms, and he didn't want to let you go._

_He was sitting up, leaning against a storage container, his legs outstretched. You were lying between his legs, his arms around his waist, your head leaning back on his shoulder, his head resting on yours._

_"You should go. This isn't safe to stay here like this."_

_"Vaughn..." Your voice was pleading, desperate for a few more moments of peace and quiet, a few more minutes of freedom from the lies._

_"I love you, and when this is all over, we can stay like this forever. That's a promise."_

_"I love you too," you whispered to him, "I love you more than life itself."_

_"I know," he replied softly, "I know."_

_"You know _what_, Mr. Vaughn?"_

_Your father steps out of the shadows. _

_He continues icily, "I could have been SD-6 Security Section. I could have been Sark. I could have been Sloane. Sydney's cover could have blown! And for what? So you two could.....enjoy some private time?" _

_Vaughn stands quickly, angry at his insinuations. _

_"Do you think that's what this is?" he nearly shouts._

_"I think that's exactly what this is." Your father's tone is cold, colder than you've ever heard before._

_You stand up, brushing dust from your clothes. "Vaughn, go. I'll deal with this." _

_"Syd-"_

_"Just go, Vaughn. You can't be seen here with us."_

_He touches your hand quickly as he leaves, clearly resisting the urge to kiss you goodbye. But his touch on your hand conveys apology, and love and tenderness and everything that you need to possess in order to calm your anger with your father._

_"What are you doing here?" you shout at your father._

_"My relationship with Vaughn is exactly that - **my **relationship with Vaughn. You have no right to be making accusations like that," you continue, stalking up and down the concrete floor which a few hours earlier had been the location of much pleasanter activities that this..._

_"Are you sleeping with him?" You'll say one thing for your father - he gets to the point._

_"Am I WHAT?"_

_"Are you sleeping with Agent Vaughn?"_

_"No." Ten years working for the CIA has taught you one thing at least - how to lie. It's as simple as breathing for you now, and as necessary to your life. You no longer have any qualms about lying to your father...he kept so much from you for so many years, it's hard to feel guilt at lying to him about this._

_"I'm pleased to hear it."_

_"Would you please explain what you are doing here?"_

_"Not before I'm assured that your relationship with Agent Vaughn is nothing but professional."_

_"Fine, Dad. My relationship with Vaughn is professional. We are not engaged in any form of relationship that could be perceived as a conflict of interest or unprofessional in any way. And I resent the implication that we are." You lie through your teeth, not caring, because you know exactly how quickly your father could ensure Vaughn was reassigned, not just to another case, but to another city altogether if he wanted. You'd come apart at the seams without him, you know. You can no longer imagine a life without him, a life without the few moments of peace and truth he gives you....your life has become separated into time spent with him, and time spent waiting for the call, waiting beside the phone for the words, "Joey's Pizza?" Without him, your life is nothing. Without him, your life is chaos, a nightmare...he wakes you up from the nightmare, and brings order to the chaos. _

_You need him more than you need oxygen, you believe. You think you would last longer without air than without him. _

_"And in case you have any thoughts to reassigning Agent Vaughn, I assure you that there is no other officer I would be willing to work with," you add quickly. _

_"Fine. If you insist on denying the emotional attachment that you two have clearly formed, go ahead." He suspects you're lying, but let's the subject drop regardless._

_"What are you doing here anyway?"_

_"Kendall wanted me to give you some information that the CIA just received on your mission."_

_He hands you a folder, and leaves, but not__ before making a parting comment._

_"You both need to do something about your eyes."_

"_Sorry?"_

_"Your eyes. I can see your eyes, and so can everyone else. They betray you, Sydney. Never forget that."_

_And with that, he left, while you sat in confusion, pondering his words._

"Does he love you?" Your father's words jolt you out of your reverie. 

"Yes," you say softly.

"Love is weakness in this profession, Sydney. Always remember that."

"He's the reason I get out of bed in the mornings," you say, throwing his words to Vaughn back in his face. "He's the reason why I'm not dead right now from a quest for revenge. He gives me something to fight for [_he gives you a future_], and he gives me something to live for. He keeps me sane, keeps me from going mad from all the lies, from everything in this twisted up thing I call a life. I held a gun to my head three weeks ago, Dad, and he was the only thing that stopped me from pulling the trigger [_even though he was the reason why you had the gun to your head in the first place_]. Can you tell me that that is a weakness?" Your words are carefully phrased, but spoken dangerously.

Your father sees the futility of arguing this point with you any further [_doesn't want to argue it further, maybe?_] and lets the subject slip. 

"Just go talk to Mom, Dad. I don't care if you walk out of that place hating her, or loving her, or feeling nothing but contempt or pity for her. Go and see the woman who killed you when she died."

He starts to reply, but you're already nearly out the door, and cut off his protests.

"Just go and see her. Make your peace with her. Get some sort of closure, Dad. It's been nearly thirty years. She says she loves us, says she wanted to stay with us. You owe it to her, owe to the woman she was, and to the man she loved, to go and see her."

You're out of the door before he can say anything, and into Vaughn's arms [_he waited for you, like he always does_], not caring who sees you like this.

"Take me away from this life, Vaughn." You know as well as he does that he can't, but that doesn't stop you from wanting from it.

"Someday." You live by these words now. _Someday..._someday you'll be free.

He continues...."Someday I'll take you away from this twisted world, and we can be free. Free of the lies...free of everything. We'll be so happy, because we'll be together, and nothing else matters. I can see a thousand different lives we could live...but in all of them we're happy. We're married...we're not...we have children...we don't. We have a daughter who likes hockey...a son who likes reading....we have a big house in a small town somewhere, and you teach English at a college, and I practice law....we have a little house somewhere on the coast...you teach an elementary school class...I consult for the CIA still...there's so many opportunities, so many paths we can take that I'm sorry we only have one life to live together. But in all of them we're happy, because we're together, and we're in love."

His voice grows quieter, and he whispers in your ear, "When we take down SD-6, I'm going to give you my grandmother's engagement ring, and I'm going to ask you to marry me. That I can promise you."

You whisper back softly, "I can promise you in return that I'm going to say yes. And we're always happy in the lives I see as well."

Yes, you think to yourself, love can be a weakness, but it can also be a strength. This man, his love for you, his dreams for your future...this is your strength.

He's your salvation, and he's the reason that you're still alive, and he's the reason why you get up in the mornings, and he's the reason why you're still sane in this bizarre web of lies that you call your life. 

_Yes. He's your strength....he's your everything._

He's the reason you why you live, the reason you keep breathing.

And in the end, he's all that really matters in your life.


	4. Freedom

DISCLAIMER - I don't own Alias, and I don't own the quote from 1 Corinthians 13.  
DEDICATION - This is to my family, for indulging my obsession with this show so much that they didn't blink an eye when I said I wanted to bring my laptop on holidays...although I've been working on it as well....it's also for being a very supportive family and not demanding to read what I've written - although my sister has read it anyway! I love my family very much, and this is for them, although I really hope they never actually read this. 

**Renewal**

_Freedom_

You can barely sleep the night before it [_the release from the prison of lies you've lived in for so long_] happens.

You weren't supposed to know [_"In order to preserve your cover for those who might escape the destruction, we must treat you as if you are any other SD-6 employee"_], but there are no lies between the two of you.

He had pulled you into a little corner before a meeting one day [_we have some new recruits from Langley being briefed on SD-6. We'd like you to be there_] and told you that it was happening.

_"When?"_ had been your only question.

_"Tomorrow. You have to make them believe you know nothing about it though, to protect your cover in case anyone escapes the take-down_. _When we enter the building, get under your desk, and stay there. I'll find you._"

Then you had hugged him, and whispered "Tomorrow...." [_not someday....tomorrow._] 

Then Weiss had entered the room, and all thoughts of tomorrows and somedays and protecting your cover had gone swiftly out of your head as you sprung apart at his entrance. 

[_"Eric doesn't know much about...us. Or, at least, I haven't told him much. Which means he probably knows everything._" "_What does he know?" "He doesn't know that we're sleeping together...doesn't know that I like to kiss you here...and here...and here..." That was the point where you stopped talking about how much his best friend knew._] 

Your guilty expressions, though, [_terrific pair of spies we make, you had thought to yourself amusedly_] had quickly alerted him to the fact that he had interrupted something, and he hadn't even had the decency to look in the least abashed. 

[_What is this, the flirting corner? We have a meeting...you know, national security...for the people?_]

But throughout that meeting you watched him [_watched the eyes that made you weak at the knees like a school girl...watched the forehead wrinkles that caused you to fight a day to day battle to resist the urge to kiss them smooth..._] and you thought about how many times you had whispered into his ear when no one had been watching, your lips against his ear, "Someday..." [_someday we'll be free...someday I'll take you away from this twisted life...someday..._]

Not someday anymore. _Tomorrow_.

* * *

You did what he told you to, waited patiently under your desk while all around you the prison bars came tumbling down. You shook, not from fear like so many of your colleagues [_fellow prisoners?_] did under their own desks, having been told to stay there by your father [_Everyone, get under your desks NOW. Everything will be fine, just go._], who having ordered everyone about, had strode off to find Sloane [_off to confront the devil in his lair_], but instead you shook from anticipation.

It's here. The day of your liberation has arrived, and the beginning of your life [_your life with **him**_] begins today.

He made you a promise a little while ago, a promise you like to whisper to yourself before you go to sleep at night. _["When we take down SD-6, I'm going to give you my grandmother's engagement ring, and I'm going to ask you to marry me. That I can promise you."]_

You, in turn, had made him a promise as well. [_"And I can promise you that I'm going to say yes._"]

You waited for what seemed like an eternity while you reassured Dixon and Marshall [_Dixon, I'm sure everything will be all right...you heard my father - everything's under control. Marshall, no, don't go and get your latest projects...just stay there, okay?_], and then a pair of feet appeared in front of your desk, and a man in black body armour leaned down and popped his head under your desk and asked you to come with him. You resisted the grin that was threatening to break across your face [_that would have _definitely _broken your cover_] at the sight of your guardian angel [_your salvation...your strength...your everything_] and stood up carefully. 

Dixon protested ["_Who are you? What do you want with Agent Bristow?_"] but you calmed him, at least temporarily [_"Don't worry, Dixon, I'll be fine._"] and you followed him out of the main enclosure. You were handcuffed, but you both knew that if you really wanted to be out of the handcuffs, you could have had them off within seconds. He led you into an elevator out past the scanning room [_you hope that will be the last time you see that white blinding light_] and before you know it, you're in the garage car park where your father rescued you [_Get in the car, Sydney!_] so many years ago and then you see your father, bruised and bleeding [_a gash on his forehead, a rapidly developing black eye_] and with a sling on his right arm, but otherwise in as good a shape as ever. You rush over to him, not noticing as he slips the handcuffs off you [_freeing you off your shackles as he always has done_], and then you hug your father. 

As you break free of him carefully, not wanting to disturb his arm, you ask "Where's Sloane? Are you all right?"

"Sloane...Sloane's dead. I killed him myself, after he shot me first and hit my arm." 

His words bring everything to a halt. [_Sloane? Dead? Who had thought the old man had enough human in him to die?_]

He was dead. And you were free. There would be no witness protection programs, no final mission to capture a Sloane who had slipped through your grasp....he was dead, SD-6 destroyed, the Alliance self-destructing as its member cells were strangled.

_Free. **Free. **_

As you grapple with this, try to come to terms with the fact that you finally have what you've wanted for so long, you feel him wrap his arms around you, prop his head on your shoulder, not caring who saw you, not caring that there were dozens of CIA officers everywhere, not caring that the love you had been forced to hide had finally been released and as evident to everyone as the noses on their faces...nothing matters anymore, because you're free [_free to love, free to live, free to be true_] and it's glorious and it's everything that you hoped for and more....and oh, he's there, and you can barely begin to comprehend it all, because it's all too miraculous, and you're worried that you'll wake up and find it's all been some wonderful dream.

You spin around, wrap your arms around him, and kiss him.

Your kiss is about the death of lies, the fall of prison bars, the removal of shackles, the destruction of evil, and it's about the life you'll have, the future in front of you, the truth that he has brought to your life, and it's about the fact that you finally own your life again, that you are the mistress of your own fate once more. Your kiss is life and death and freedom from chains and the future and the past and the dark hole that you dug yourself that he pulled you out of, and it's about love and pain and emotion and grief and guilt and blood and it's about seeing past these emotions to the love burning like a star underneath.....your pain sent you to him, but your love kept you there [_and will keep you there forever_]

And he says to you, "I want to get you the hell out of this life," and you can tell it's something that he's wanted to say forever. This day is not just about fulfilling your dreams, you remind yourself. These past few years have been nearly as much of a nightmare for him as they have for you [_I don't sleep at night when you're on missions/__Syd, how do you live like this, lying to the world?/Would you like to know how your father died, Mr. Vaughn?_] and you're not the only one being set free from the lies today.

All you say in return is, "Let's go."

* * *

He blindfolds you and sits you in a car. [_"Where are we going?" "It's a surprise." "Vaughn..." "No peeking!"_]

He drives for about twenty minutes, but you suspect you've gone in a few circles to throw you off the scent. You have a reasonably good idea where he's taking you though. There's only one place that he _could_ be taking you to if he's about to do what he promised to do.

Sure enough, you pull up outside the warehouse. [_This place, this dingy warehouse in one of the worst parts of LA, is more like your home than anywhere else_]

He leads you inside, having discarded the blindfold [_this place isn't about blindfolds...it's about truth and freedom from the lies_].

You look around curiously, wondering if this might be the last time you ever visit this place. Truth be told, you'll be sorry to leave this place...for so long it's been the one location in your life that has been real, true, free from lies [_even though it was lies that brought you here_]....it holds so many memories for you [_the feel of the chain link metal digging into your back, making you bleed, but you didn't care because it was pain and it let you know you were alive and it was real in a world full of fallacy/the feel of his heart next to your ear, beating strong and sure/his lips on yours, conveying all that needed to be said without words/whispered "I love you"'s as you held each other/his arms around you, freedom from the pain, shelter from the rain/the way he let you look at your hands and not see the blood/slowhardfastgentlesoftroughsweetbitter....forty-seven ways to purge the pain, forgive your sins....free you from the lies...make you feel something again..._]

He hovers in a corner, watching you look around, almost shy. Then he picks up his courage, walks over to you, and goes down on one knee.

[_you're two years in the past. someone is singing. the sun is out, and you're in the middle of a green lawn, people walking between classes, laughing, shouting, watching fascinated. Once again there's a man in front of you on one knee. "Sydney...I can't tell you how much I hope you to marry me." "Yes."]_

You shake your head slightly, trying to erase the inevitable memory that always follows that particular flashback

[_"Danny?" "Danny, are you here?" you walk into your bathroom. there's blood on the walls, blood everywhere, blood in the bathtub, and your stomach turns to ice as you walk over to the bathtub and see him dead....you hold his head in your hands..._]

Vaughn sees you, sees the tears begin to flow, and he can tell that they're not tears of happiness. He knows what you're remembering.

"Syd!"

He stands, and shakes you gently.

"Sydney. Look at me. Look at me!" He's nearly shouting, but you can barely hear him, so trapped are you inside the memory. You can smell the almost metallic scent of the blood, feel it clinging to your hands in long strands.........

"It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault!" He's guided you over to a storage crate, and he rocks you back and forth in his arms like he's cradling a child, repeating over and over and over again, a constant mantra hammering itself into you.

"Not everything in this world is your fault, Sydney. You have to know that!"

You suddenly snap out of the memory, finally comprehending the look on his face, the tortured expression in eyes. _[He thinks you look at him and wish it was Danny..._]

And you're crying even more now, for the pain that you've caused him. _How can he do this? He thinks that you look at him and wish that you had never even met him, that Danny had never been killed, that you had never been a spy........he thinks you look at him and wish that you'd never had the chance to meet him._

"I'm sorry," you stutter out. [_You've been so selfish....you've never considered the pain you've caused him with your ghosts._]

"For what?"

"For making you think that I look at you and wish that we'd never met." 

Today is about freedom. Freedom from lies, yes. Freedom from the prison of lies that you've lived in for so many years...freedom from the life that you hate so much, the life which forces you live by this motto [_You live. And you lie. And you breathe._]

But it's also about the freedom from the past, freedom from the pain and the guilt and the hate and the anger and the blood and it's about trying to come to terms with the thought that maybe, just maybe, you're not responsible for everything in this world...

_"_You're my salvation, Vaughn. And I love you. Don't even think that I look at you and wish that it was someone else's face staring back. No matter how much I loved Danny - thought I loved Danny....there's nothing I have ever loved, nothing I've ever _needed_ so much as you. You asked me once if I knew what it was like to want someone more than life itself. Yes, I know what that's like. I know what it's like to separate my life into the time spent with you, and the time spent waiting for the phone call, for the words 'Joey's Pizza?' Yes, Vaughn, I know what it's like to love someone that much."

"Then marry me." 

A slow grin spreads across your face, and you reply simply, "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

You can't stop looking at the ring [_my grandmother's ring/it's simple, just a few diamonds in a gold setting/it's classical, antique almost, and you think you'll enjoy wearing it very much_] all the way home. Well, not so much the ring as everything it signifies.

_[I'm marrying Vaughn. Mrs. Sydney Vaughn. I like the sound of that._]

"So, where exactly are we going?" he asks you.

"I'm going to introduce you to Francie, and to Will, and then we're going to your apartment. I want to see where you live, and exactly how much closet space you have for my clothes..."

He nearly swerves off the road at this last comment, and you giggle.

"No, not really. I just want to see your apartment. And I want to meet Donovan...."

Eventually you pull up outside the house you share with Francie and Will, and you're about to get out of the car when the absurdity of the situation strikes you.

You're getting _married_, and your two best friends don't even know that you're seeing anyone. 

You giggle at this [_this certainly has been quite a giggle-worthy day, you think_] and Vaughn looks over at you, wanting to know what so funny, and then you explain, and he laughs as well, because....well, his friends [_well, Weiss at least_] don't know that he's involved [_read: sleeping with_] anyone either.

You go inside, and there's a soaring feeling inside that makes you feel invincible, because you're free, and this is a moment you've dreamt about for so long. The pieces of your life, all the broken fragments are finally coming together. Vaughn is free to meet your friends, and you can finally stop lying about your job [_about your life_] to your friends.

The cage of lies that you've been suffocating within for so long is falling apart, and you're emerging triumphant [_the phoenix reborn_] from within.

You take Vaughn's hand, and you lead him inside to meet the other two most important people in your life.

You take his hand, and you begin to join together the pieces of your life.

* * *

Later, you're lying next to him in his bed [_it's nice to _have _a bed...concrete floors are terrible on your back...._], just enjoying the feeling of his heart beating against your ear.

"Vaughn?"

"Hmm?"

"We're getting married."

"Yes, we are."

"I'm going to quit the CIA, Vaughn."

"You know, since we are going to be getting married, why don't you call me Michael?"

[_you've honestly never considered this - Vaughn's always been his name to you, after all_]

"Michael. Mike."

"Either's fine," he assures you.

"Vaughn....I'm handing in my resignation to Kendall tomorrow morning."

"So am I."

Now this takes you by surprise, and you turn to look at him. "Really?"

"I'm sick of the lies, Syd, almost as much as you are. I want out."

"Good," you reply.

You've nearly fallen asleep when something springs to mind. "Vaughn, what are we going to _do_?"

"Who cares?" he replies sleepily.

_Who cares indeed. You'll be together, and you'll be happy, and you'll be in love, and that's really all that matters._

_You love him, and he loves you._

The rest can sort itself out.

_You read a quote from the Bible once that you've always liked the sound of, but never really believed it _

_"Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres....And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."_

Yes, you think to yourself, love rejoices in the truth [_is set free by the truth_]. Love protects [_you held a gun to your head, and he (his love for you) wouldn't let you pull the trigger], _love trusts [_he's your guardian angel, the one thing that's real in a world of lies_], and hopes [_a better future together_] and perseveres [_you lived the life you lived, you fought the way you did, for the life he promised you at the end of the tunnel_]. 

But faith can be broken, can sometime shatter [_you had faith once that you were working for your country/and you had faith that your mother was nearly perfect once_]....hope can be stained, sullied in the darkest hours of your life [_all you wanted was revenge as a form of penance for your sins...and then a quiet death, forgotten by all_]....but love endures. When all else fails [_when you hold a gun to your head, and start to squeeze the trigger_], love remains.

_**Love remains.**_


End file.
